HOW TO HIDE YOUR BLUSHES

Episode 11

THE TRUTH HAS TEETH

Monday morning arrived with a heavy silence in the air. Eden could feel it the moment she stepped out of her front door. It wasn’t the usual crisp air of early autumn, nor the soft rustle of trees lining her street. No, this was different. This was the kind of stillness that happens right before a storm, the kind that makes your skin prickle with awareness. As she made her way through the school’s iron gates, the normal hum of chatter faltered, then dipped entirely. Conversations shifted into hushed tones as she passed, but she kept her head high, pretending not to notice the way her peers looked at her. The weight of it all—the looks, the whispers, the accusations—was already pressing down on her chest.

Her locker creaked as she opened it, the sound harsh against the quiet. She could hear Zoey's voice before she saw her, sharp and clear, cutting through the tension. "Did they call your parents?"

Eden barely looked up as she shoved a few books into her bag, her hands moving mechanically. "Last night. My mom cried for almost an hour. My dad, though... he just stared at me, disappointment written all over his face. Not a word, just disappointment."

Zoey winced. "And Aiden?"

Eden slammed her locker shut with more force than necessary, the sound echoing down the hallway. "Haven’t seen him since. We texted a few times, but... it’s not the same anymore. Not after what happened."

Zoey studied her carefully, concern laced with something else—maybe curiosity, maybe worry, or maybe a little bit of both. "Maybe he needs time, Eden. Space to figure out what he wants."

Eden’s voice was quiet but firm as she stared at the ground. "I don’t want space. I don’t want time. I just want to understand what’s happening. I want truth."

Before Zoey could respond, the bell rang, signaling the start of the first class of the day. With a final glance at her friend, Eden turned away, her mind racing as she moved through the crowded halls. The truth seemed so elusive, something she could never quite grasp, no matter how hard she reached for it.

The school day dragged on, each minute longer than the last, but it wasn’t until her third period that things truly began to unravel. She had just taken her seat in Mrs. Duncan’s English class when the intercom crackled to life. "Eden Sinclair, please report to the office immediately. Eden Sinclair, please report to the office."

The silence that followed felt oppressive. Everyone in the class turned to look at her, their gazes sharp, some sympathetic, others full of judgment. Her stomach twisted, but she stood up, offering a half-hearted shrug to her classmates as she walked out the door. Her feet felt heavy with each step, like she was walking toward a guillotine. When she reached the office, the receptionist, Mrs. Harper, didn’t even bother to look up from her desk.

"You’re expected in the counselor’s office," she said flatly, handing Eden a pass.

The words were simple, but they echoed in Eden’s mind as she walked down the hall. Her heart thudded louder with each step, anticipation and dread mixing in a knot in her chest. When she finally pushed the door open, Ms. Rivera was already sitting behind her desk, looking every bit the professional—neatly pressed blouse, glasses perched on the edge of her nose, hands folded in front of her.

"Eden," she said, her voice soft but authoritative, "please, sit down."

Eden took the seat across from her, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She already knew what this was about. "I assume you’re going to scold me now?"

Ms. Rivera raised an eyebrow, not showing any signs of irritation. "No, Eden. Not scold. But I do think we need to talk about your actions and their consequences. This isn’t just about you anymore. Your choices are affecting the school’s reputation, your future, and... well, you know who else is involved."

Eden’s breath caught in her throat at the mention of Aiden’s name. She knew the counselor wasn’t just referring to her. The entire school had taken an interest in Aiden and her, whether she liked it or not. They were a topic of gossip, of judgment, and Ms. Rivera’s words made it clear that everyone was watching. Eden braced herself, feeling the weight of every pair of eyes that might be on her at that very moment.

"You’re a bright student, Eden," Ms. Rivera continued, leaning forward slightly. "And I don’t want you to ruin your future. I don’t want this to define you."

Eden’s eyes narrowed. "So what, you’re telling me to break up with him?"

"That’s not what I’m saying. But you need to think carefully. Is this relationship really worth jeopardizing everything you’ve worked for?"

Eden’s voice was sharp as she replied, "You don’t know anything about it, Ms. Rivera. You don’t know what it’s like. You don’t know what I feel."

Ms. Rivera sat back in her chair, her expression softening. "I may not know your feelings, Eden, but I know consequences. And I know how hard it is to go through this kind of scrutiny. You have to be ready for what comes next."

Eden didn’t respond. She just stood up, turned on her heel, and left the office, not bothering to look back. The door closed behind her with a finality that seemed to echo in her mind.

By the time lunch rolled around, the rumors had already spread like wildfire. It wasn’t long before Eden found herself sitting at the back of the cafeteria, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through Whisper. It didn’t take long for her to find the post that everyone was talking about.

> Mechanic crush? Or senior scandal?

The photo wasn’t a clear one, but it didn’t need to be. It was a blurry shot of her leaving Aiden’s garage, a moment caught in the haze of a late afternoon. The caption was laced with curiosity, mixed with a hint of judgment. Eden could practically hear the whispers behind the screen.

She dropped her phone onto the table with a frustrated sigh. "Well, it’s official," she muttered to Zoey, who had slid into the seat next to her. "I’m the scandal of the week."

Zoey frowned, but her tone was still supportive. "I don’t get why people care so much. They don’t know you. They don’t know him. It’s just some stupid gossip."

Eden couldn’t shake the feeling of everyone’s eyes on her, the weight of it sinking in deeper with every passing moment. "It’s more than that, Zoey. It’s about more than just a stupid rumor. This is my life, my choices, and everyone’s judging me for it."

Her friend didn’t answer, but the expression on her face said it all. Zoey was worried, maybe even a little scared for her. But she didn’t say anything. Not yet.

That evening, when Eden sat down for dinner with her parents, she could feel the tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud. Her mother’s usually gentle face was set in a hard line, her fork clinking loudly as she stirred the pasta. Her father, usually the silent observer, seemed more like a looming presence, his jaw tight as he worked through his own thoughts.

"So, Eden," her father began, his voice low but steady. "I think we need to talk about what’s been going on. Your mother and I... we’ve been worried."

Eden’s hands clenched in her lap, but she said nothing. She didn’t want to hear it, didn’t want to be told that she had messed up. That she had ruined everything.

"Your mom got a call from the school today," her father continued. "They said you were involved with an older boy. A senior mechanic." He paused for a moment, letting the words hang in the air. "He’s too old for you, Eden. Do you realize that?"

Her mother’s voice cracked as she added, "He’s not just some boy, Eden. He’s a man, and you’re still a child. I don’t want you to get hurt."

Eden’s breath caught in her throat. "You don’t understand. You don’t get what this is, what he means to me."

Her mother shook her head. "We just don’t want you to make a mistake you’ll regret."

Eden stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "Maybe I’ll regret disappointing you, but I won’t regret him. You don’t get to decide who I care about. I’m not a little girl anymore."

That night, alone in her room, Eden turned to the one thing that had always been a source of comfort: her writing. She pulled out her journal and began to write, pouring all her frustration, confusion, and pain into the pages. The words flowed easily, like a cathartic release she hadn’t known she needed. She wrote until her hand ached, until she could no longer see the page through the blur of tears.

When she finally finished, she looked down at the poem she had written. The words were raw, real, and bleeding with emotion. She titled it The Rule Breaker’s Prayer. She knew it wasn’t just a poem—it was a declaration of her truth, a cry for freedom in the face of judgment. She needed to share it, to make people listen.

The next day, she found herself walking to the auto shop once more, the familiar sound of the doorbell ringing as she stepped inside. Aiden looked up from where he was working, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he saw her. The tension between them had only grown since the gossip began, but in this small space, with the smell of motor oil and metal in the air, it felt like they were the only two people in the world.

"I wrote something," Eden said, holding out the crumpled pages of her poem. "I need you to read it."

Aiden didn’t question her. He simply took the paper from her, his eyes scanning the words as she waited anxiously. When he finished, he met her gaze and smiled softly.

"It’s beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You’re strong, Eden. Stronger than you realize."

Eden swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. "I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m losing everything."

"You’re not losing anything. You’re gaining everything. This—" he gestured between them, "—this is real. And no matter what happens, I’m here."

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Eden let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.

That evening, as she lay in bed, Eden heard the familiar ping of her phone. She picked it up and saw the notification. Ms. Holloway had sent her a message. It was brief, just a few words, but they were enough to make her heart race.

"I submitted your poem to the regional competition. You’re going to read it. You’re going to stand on that stage, and they’re going to listen."

Eden couldn’t breathe. She had written that poem for herself, not for anyone else, not for competition. But now, it seemed, the world was about to hear her truth. She wasn’t sure if she was ready. But somehow, she knew she had no choice but to go.